La Confiance
by lapetiteblonde
Summary: As Victoria Harper tries to rebuild her life in Paris, she receives some unlikely help from a new acquaintance.
1. Flea Market

_April 22, 1974_

Victoria made her way through rows and rows of tables, all the while trying her best to take in everything the flea market had to offer. Her scholarship had covered on-campus housing expenses, meaning she didn't lack much, but she figured it would be wise to scope out the area in case she ever needed anything and wasn't sure where to get it. It would appear they sold everything here, from clothing to tupperware to books to handmade jewelry. She was sure she had never seen anything like it in New York- although, to be fair, it wasn't as though her mother would have ever taken her to such a place anyway.

Marion had always done whatever she could to give others the impression she was a woman of class and means and, in doing so, she managed to squander the little money she had been left from her parents by the time Victoria was ten years old. From then on she relied on ensnaring wealthy suitors to maintain her livelihood, and that of her daughter's, because God forbid she ever go out and actually apply for a job to support herself.

Victoria wondered if her mother missed her. Strange as it seemed, there were times when she genuinely missed her mother. Marion hadn't exactly been the most conventional or affectionate parent, but she was the only family Victoria had ever known. Her father had abandoned her mother when she told him she was pregnant, and her grandparents had passed away when she was very young. Still, there were times when Victoria felt nothing but resentment towards her mother. Had it not been for her… well, never mind. There was no use thinking about it. Nothing could change the past.

Victoria must have passed at least a dozen booths before she found herself walking over to one that immediately caught her attention. After scanning the merchandise, she tentatively picked up a pair of knit baby booties- the hints of a smile beginning to form on her lips. They were absolutely beautiful, and similar to the ones Patrick had recently outgrown just a few weeks ago. It wasn't until after she remembered she no longer had a son to care for that Victoria felt the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Quietly putting the shoes back in their place, she turned on her heel with the intention of returning back to her dorm but was stopped when she unintentionally walked straight into a young man carrying a box of flowers.

"Merde!"

The box fell to the floor, half of its contents spilling out upon impact.

"Hé! Regarder où vous allez!"

Victoria couldn't understand a word he said, but judging from his tone she could tell he was angry.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I wasn't paying attention."

The young man looked up from the floor where he was crouched down gathering the flower petals that had fallen. He had been ready to shoot off another cutting remark until his eyes made contact with hers.

"Are you okay?" he asked instead.

Victoria furrowed her brow.

"You're crying."

"Oh," she laughed, quickly wiping the tears away from her cheeks. "I'm fine."

"I didn't mean to upset you," he smiled. His accent was thick but endearing.

"You didn't."

"You're American, yes?"

Victoria nodded, "I'm here for school."

"Ah. You're new aren't you?"

"How can you tell?"

The young man looked amused, "I've been working a booth here for almost two years and I've never seen you before."

Victoria tried her best to appear at ease but the prolonged interaction was beginning to make her uncomfortable. She wasn't used to engaging strange men in conversation, and she didn't trust this one's intention. Sure, he appeared pleasant on the outside, but he wouldn't be taking the time out to make small talk with her unless he was looking for something more. And men were always looking for more when it came to her.

"I should be getting back now," she said. "I promised my roommate I would go to lunch with her." It was a lie, but she was anxious to leave and couldn't think of any other way to escape the conversation without sounding rude.

"I'll see you around then," he smiled. "I'm Pascal. Pascal LeMarchal."

Victoria nodded, "Pleasure to meet you, Pascal."

The instant the words left her mouth she made a run for it, refusing to give this man her name in the same naive way she had given it to the last man who took advantage of her. It was Victoria's every intention to escape her past while here, not repeat it. And she'd be damned if she made the same mistake twice.


	2. Routine

_April 29, 1974_

Adjusting to life in Paris had proved easier than Victoria originally thought. It had only been a little over a week since she'd arrived, but she had already managed to get her dorm room in order and scope out the surrounding area in an attempt to better acquaint herself with what was to become her home for the next two years. The cost of her textbooks had been covered by her scholarship, and she'd already met with her counselor to pick out a schedule. Unfortunately, the spring term had commenced in January- which meant she wouldn't be able to start her classes until fall- but at least it gave her time to brush up on her French while she waited. She had taken classes in elementary school and done exceptionally well in them, which gave her something to go on.

Her roommate, Bernadette, was a wealthy girl from Bordeaux with evident breeding and the most beautiful clothes Victoria had ever seen, but so far she had been kind. This was a relief to Victoria since, at first, she was sure the girl would look down of her for having so few things to call her own. Instead, Bernadette seemed fascinated by her. She had already asked Victoria for help with her English and, in turn, promised to show her around campus and introduce her to a few friends. For this, Victoria was grateful.

But despite all the promise her new life held, Victoria still found herself grieving the loss of her baby boy. He occupied the majority of her thoughts almost every day, and the idea of Jimmy finding him continued to haunt her- so much so that she had begun having nightmares. What would happen if Jimmy managed to get his hands on her son? Would Patrick grow up hating her for abandoning him? Would he ever know the truth? It was questions like these that continued to pique Victoria's anxiety. Being thousands of miles away from Jimmy may have given her back a sense of safety she would never again feel in new York, but it didn't keep her from worrying about the safety of her son. Not a day went by that she didn't think about Patrick or miss him. He was the light of her life and always would be, no matter what.

Today, Victoria decided to go against her usual routine. So far she had spent most of her time reading through art books in the school library, but, as someone who was trying to re-invent herself, she figured it was time to create some distance between her old life and her new one. Borrowing one of her roommate's fashion magazines, she fetched a coat and a pair of sandals before heading out to the nearest cafe. Once there, she ordered herself a cup of Earl Grey and tried her best not to spit it out with every sip. It wasn't easy.

As she flipped through the magazine pages, Victoria found herself fascinated by the glamour they held. The extravagant dresses, the articles, the perfume ads… they all came from such a foreign world to her. Just looking at the clothes alone made her wish she had the resources to afford them. And the models… they were extraordinary. For all of the compliments she had received since she was a child, Victoria had never been able to recognize her own beauty. In fact, the more men told her she was beautiful the less she felt inclined to believe them. If there was one thing she'd learned as she got older, it was that men only ever wanted one thing- and that they would say anything they could in order to get it.

She was halfway through the magazine when a vaguely familiar voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Enjoying yourself?"

It was the boy from the flea market. Pascal.

"I was, until you interrupted me."

She was surprised at how cold the words had sounded when they escaped her lips, but the young man didn't seem to be fazed. He let out an amused laugh before getting up from his table and taking the seat across from her.

"You didn't strike me as the type who would enjoy a fashion magazine."

Victoria flashed him an annoyed look, "And why is that?"

"It isn't you," he shrugged.

"You don't even know me."

Pascal laughed, "Maybe if you hadn't run off before telling me your name we would have been friends already."

Victoria searched his eyes for insincerity but failed to find anything in them other than genuine interest. She hated to admit it, but there was something inevitably likable about this boy… a certain charm. It didn't help that his tousled hair and carefree smile made him quite attractive.

"I'm sorry about running off," she said, "My name is Victoria."

"Victoria?"

"Well, most people call me Vicky."

He studied her a bit before answering, "Victoria suits you better."

Back home almost no one had addressed her using her full name, but perhaps this could be one of the changes she made while here.

"Victoria's fine."

"Good," he smiled.

She hated how charming he was. There was such an effortless confidence about him that she couldn't help but envy.

"How did you find me here?"

"I come here often," he responded. "The owner's a family friend."

"Oh. So you haven't been following me," she said taking another sip of her tea.

"I haven't," he laughed.

It was so strange the way nothing she said to him seemed to wound his pride. Her biting remarks just rolled off his back as if she hadn't meant them. He seemed so taken by her and yet Victoria couldn't understand why. She should be doing everything in her power to push him away… but perhaps she was just as taken by him as he was by her.

"I really am sorry for leaving you at the flea market like that," she said, "And for making you spill your flowers."

"Don't worry. I was still able to sell most of them."

"Most of them?" she frowned.

"Some lost too many petals when they fell."

He wasn't the slightest bit angry, but Victoria still felt guilty for costing him a greater payday.

"I can make it up to you," she offered.

"You don't have to do that."

"Why not?"

"It wasn't your fault."

Victoria gave a puzzled look, "It was, I bumped into you."

"You were having a bad day," he shrugged, "and I wasn't paying attention."

It was then Victoria realized that Pascal's cool-headed, bordering on arrogant, exterior masked a genuinely compassionate heart. One she hadn't initially suspected was there.

"This time it's my turn to leave you," he said. "I have to be home in time to help maman make dinner."

Victoria gave him a smile.

"Stop by my booth tomorrow?" he asked.

"I'd love to."

"Great, I will see you then."

And with that, he was gone.


	3. Proposition

_April 30, 1974_

Today, Victoria was supposed to stop by Pascal's booth at the flea market sometime in the afternoon. She hadn't given the idea much thought when she uncharacteristically agreed to meet with him yesterday, but she wasn't exactly sure what this last-minute rendezvous was supposed to entail. They were hardly more than strangers, and if this was Pascal's idea of a date... God help him. Victoria wasn't interested. It wasn't that she didn't like him- she did. But at the same time he made her nervous. She had no idea why he seemed so eager to get to know her, and she couldn't help but worry he'd turn out to be another Jimmy Brennan.

It had already been a year and three months since the rape, but Victoria still found herself struggling to get past it. The weeks that immediately followed the attack had been the most difficult. At first, it was the physical pain Victoria fought to get through- the soreness between her legs, the black eye that resulted from Jimmy's punch, the bruise that appeared on her cheek from being held down against the concrete floor for so long. Somehow, she had managed to get through all of it in one piece. But as soon as the physical pain faded away, the emotional ramifications followed. The nightmares deprived her of sleep, the panic attacks made her afraid to leave her apartment, and the persisting feeling of being unclean prompted her to take multiple showers a day. It didn't help that Victoria had no one she felt she could talk to about what had happened to her. Perhaps if she had, she wouldn't still be struggling.

The only thing that'd made the aftermath of her assault bearable was Patrick's entrance into her life. The news of her pregnancy had initially come as a shock to Victoria, filling her with the utmost fear and uncertainty- but as soon as she gave birth to Patrick, all of that fear dissipated. He was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen, and she loved him instantly. She knew Patrick loved her too; she could feel it. He was the first person to give her life purpose and make her feel wanted. This alone made having to give him away all the more difficult, and Victoria was certain she would never recover from the loss.

Making her way over to the flea market, Victoria vowed not to let her trusting nature get the better of her. She wanted to give Pascal a fair chance, she truly did, but at the same time she knew she had to protect herself if she wanted to avoid being taken advantage of again. So, she settled on a compromise- she would be outwardly gracious but internally wary. No precaution would be left untaken, and she made a note to herself to analyze Pascal's every word and observe his every move. If he was truly the gentleman he appeared to be, Victoria would soon discover it. If he wasn't, the same judgment applied.

Scanning the rows of tables on either side of her, it wasn't long before Victoria came to recognize Pascal's voice. He was finishing up a sale, so she decided to wait until the customers left before approaching him. He looked so at ease just standing there. It made her wonder where his assurance came from, and whether or not he had any insecurities at all. Once he was finally alone, she made herself known to him.

"Victoria," as soon as he said her name, his face lit up.

Victoria couldn't help but wonder if he had been waiting for her to show up since he started his shift. She knew it was a silly thing to think, but she had never witnessed anyone looking so pleased to see her. It made her stomach flutter.

"Hi," she said.

Pascal motioned for her to stand beside him on the other side of the booth, "Join me?"

Victoria hesitated before complying with his request, unsure of what it was he was trying to get at by asking her stand next to him.

"Your classes don't start until fall, yes?"

Victoria nodded.

"I've known many American students who failed to make it past their first year because they couldn't keep up with the language. If you're up to it, I can help you."

The words sounded so sincere coming out of his mouth, but nevertheless Victoria figured it best not to take any chances.

"Thank you, but my roommate is already helping me."

Just as she had predicted, her rejection did nothing to deter Pascal's efforts.

"What is she helping you with? A textbook?"

Victoria couldn't believe his arrogance, "You think you can do better?"

"Yes," he said, "I can give you an opportunity to practice your French almost every day."

"How?"

"If you become my partner, you'll be able to put what you know to good use and pick up on the rest by interacting with the customers."

It was a solid offer and Victoria knew it, but she still had reservations about allowing herself to get close to Pascal. She didn't know enough about him yet to draw definitive conclusions about the type of person he was, and it was driving her crazy.

"I don't know the first thing about seeing flowers," she countered.

"No," Pascal agreed, "but you strike me as someone who learns quickly."

Lost in her own thoughts, Victoria failed to thank Pascal for the compliment he'd just given her. She knew she needed the practice, but remained skeptical of the idea.

"I'll tell you what... join me for a few hours today and we'll see how it goes. Then you can give me your answer."

"Fine," Victoria conceded, "I'll do it."

"Great," he smiled, "I can start by teaching you the names of each flower. This yellow one right here is called-"

"The blonde dragon," Victoria finished.

Pascal cocked an eyebrow. Her remark had caught him off guard, but he still couldn't help feeling impressed with her knowledge.

"Very good," he said finally, "How did you know?"

"It's my favorite."


	4. Opportunity

_May 15, 1974_

Today marked exactly two weeks since Victoria had accepted Pascal's offer to work alongside him at the flea market, and, much to her surprise, everything had gone well thus far. Pascal had been right- interacting with customers every day and trying to make a sale provided Victoria with the practice she needed to continue building on her French. In just the last few days alone, she had already managed to improve her accent as well as her communication skills. Pascal gave her all of the credit for this, insisting his initial impression of her being a fast learner had been right, but the truth was he was an excellent teacher. He encouraged Victoria to keep studying her textbooks and never once laughed at her when she made a mistake or pronounced a word wrong. Sometimes he would even offer to help her outside of work, which Victoria deeply appreciated. She had grown fonder of him in two weeks than she ever imagined possible.

During this time, she had also come to learn a bit more about Pascal's background. It turned out he lived with his mother and father just a few miles north from her school, and was an only child. His mother, Claudine, worked as a nurse in a small hospital, and his father, Bernard, owned a newspaper stand on the Champs-Élysées. Neither of them made much money, but they were a close family. The flowers Pascal sold at the flea market were from his grandfather's shop in the city. He'd been working under him for years now, trying to save up enough money for college so that his parents wouldn't have to worry. Victoria admired his compassion. The more time they spent talking to each other, the more Pascal's good heart became apparent to her.

Earlier today, Victoria's roommate had invited her to a gathering at one of the local taverns. Apparently a big group of students was planning to meet there later tonight for drinks and a good time, and she thought it would be the perfect opportunity for Victoria to meet some new friends. Victoria had agreed to go under one condition- she'd be allowed to bring a plus one. As soon as Bernadette gave her the green light, Victoria went to Pascal with the invitation. He accepted, knowing it would comfort Victoria to have at least one familiar face at the party.

The walk to the tavern was much longer than Bernadette had originally let on. By the time they arrived there, Victoria's feet were already aching. Scanning the bar for other people her age, she was able to pick out at least twenty art students. All of them seemed to know each other, and Victoria silently prayed Pascal would come to her rescue soon. Social gatherings were not her strong suit, and, while she had been fairly extroverted as a child, Victoria's recent experiences had caused her to retreat inward. The next fifteen minutes were a complete blur. Bernadette had managed to introduce her to every single person in the room in a hasty, overexcited manner that ensured that Victoria wouldn't remember a single face or name by the end of the night.

Just as she was beginning to suspect Pascal had forgotten her invitation, Victoria felt a light tap on her shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized before leaning in to kiss her cheek. It was an innocent gesture, so Victoria allowed it.

"I was beginning to think I'd have to navigate this party alone," she said.

"Maman needed help with the groceries," Pascal explained, "I would never stand you up."

He was such a gentleman, Victoria thought. And a momma's boy- he was always running errands for his mother and helping her out at home anytime he got the chance.

"I'm a fish out of water here," Victoria admitted as she gazed at the people around her. Almost everyone was speaking French, drinking, and telling stories she couldn't pick up on.

"You're doing great. It will get easier once you start your classes, I promise."

It was as if everything word that came out of his mouth had been carefully chosen to reassure her. Victoria didn't know how he did it, but Pascal had a way of making her feel at ease in any setting. She hoped his confidence would eventually rub off on her.

"Care to join me for a drink?" he asked. Despite the blaring music, Victoria was somehow able to make out his words.

"Yeah, sure."

She allowed Pascal to lead the way, taking his hand to prevent herself from getting mixed up in the crowd and losing sight of him. Once they made it to the bar, Pascal ordered a beer for himself before turning to Victoria for her order.

"Club soda will be fine, thanks."

Pascal relayed the order to the bartender before taking a seat on one of the bar stools as they waited. Victoria joined him.

"You don't drink?" he asked curiously.

Victoria shook her head. She was very wary of alcoholic beverages, preferring to keep her wits about her should she find herself in a dangerous situation.

When the bartender returned with their drinks, Pascal covered the cost for both of them.

Victoria gave him a knowing look, "You shouldn't have."

"I wanted to."

"You know, I've been reading about these beautiful vineyards in one of my Paris books and I was thinking maybe we could go visit one this weekend. Have you ever been?"

Pascal cocked an eyebrow.

Victoria knew it was a bold invitation, and she immediately regretted having worked up the nerve to suggest it in the first place. Neither of them had hung out together outside the flea market or campus library, and all of their meetings thus far had been rooted in Pascal helping Victoria get adjusted to her new life in Paris.

"I haven't," he answered finally, "but I would love to go with you."

The immediate wave of relief that washed over Victoria was overwhelming. For a moment she was afraid she'd somehow ruined things between them.

"Really?"

"Yes," he laughed.

More and more people were beginning to fill up the tavern and, as the hours went by, it became apparent that the crowd had evolved. Most of the students, including Bernadette and her friends, were still there but there were much more older folk now than there were when Victoria first got there. A large crowd was beginning to form at the bar- there was pushing and shoving and plenty of yelling. It didn't help that the music seemed to playing even louder now than it'd been playing before.

Victoria reached over to take another sip of her drink, but when the liquid touched her tongue she immediately scrunched up her nose in disgust.

"What is it?" Pascal asked, unable to mask his concern.

"Nothing, this just… this isn't my club soda. It tastes awful."

Pascal leaned over to peek at the contents, "It's probably vodka."

Victoria let out a laugh, "I hate it."

"I see you as more of a red wine connoisseur," Pascal quipped.

"Hmm..."

"I think the beers have caught up with me," he continued, getting up from his seat at the bar. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be back soon."

As soon as he left, Victoria started to feel strange. A horrible dizzying feeling came over her and everything in her field of vision turned blurry. She struggled to keep her eyes open but was finding it more and more difficult to maintain her balance on the stool. At one point she was sure she was floating- but a few seconds later she fell, hitting her head on the wooden floor and instantly blacking out.


	5. Trigger

_May 16, 1974_

When Pascal returned from the bathroom a few minutes later he expected to find Victoria exactly where he'd left her at the bar. Instead, he found himself coming into contact with a group of people who had gathered around to see what the commotion was about. Apparently something had happened while he was gone, but no one around him seemed to know what when he asked. After a few awkward seconds of just standing around, Pascal heard someone inside the circle say something about calling an ambulance. Realizing Victoria's roommate and her friends were nowhere to be found when he scanned the room for familiar faces, Pascal put two and two together and made his way through the crowd only to have his worst suspicions confirmed.

Refusing to let another minute pass by without taking action, he asked the bartender to hail him a cab while he knelt down to pick Victoria off of the floor. Once enough people backed away from him, it wasn't difficult to scoop her up into his arms. She was light as a feather. Pushing past the useless bystanders who did nothing to help, Pascal managed to make it outdoors just in time to catch the taxi. Thinking on his feet, he gave the driver his own address instead of Victoria's. It wasn't any farther from the tavern than her school was, and he hadn't the slightest idea which building her dorm belonged to so taking her home with him was the best option he could think of.

Once home, Pascal called on the assistance of his mother- who, despite having been caught off guard, carried Victoria all the way up to the guest bedroom without asking questions and listened intently as her son explained to her what had happened.

"The effects should wear off in a couple of hours," she said once he'd finished, "the best thing we can do for her now is let her rest."

Pascal nodded, "I'm sorry for springing this up on you in the middle of the night, maman."

"Nonsense," she said, waving a hand at him dismissively. "I'm proud of you for helping her."

"She's a friend of mine. The one I told you about..."

"Victoria?"

"Yes," he confirmed, "the one I've been working with."

Pascal watched as his mother gently slipped off Victoria's sandals and tucked her under the covers so that she wouldn't wake up cold in the middle of the night. He knew it would be hours until Victoria regained consciousness, but a part of him kept hoping she'd open her eyes so that he could go to bed knowing she was okay.

"You still don't know much about her, do you?" he heard his mother ask.

"Not yet," he responded, "she's a little shy."

"Give her time. There might be more to her than meets the eye."

The next morning, Pascal rose early to fix Victoria breakfast. He knew there was a chance she would wake up without much of an appetite, so he kept it light with a cheese omelette and some bread on the side.

Meanwhile, in another room, Victoria was beginning to wake. She tossed under the covers for a bit before stretching her legs and eventually rubbing her eyes before opening them. The minute it sunk in that she didn't recognize her surroundings, she flew into panic mode. Nothing in the room gave her a sense of where she was, her head was pounding heavily, and the fact that she couldn't remember a thing from last night was was making her suspect the worst.

Checking for signs, Victoria breathed a sigh of relief when she realized her clothes and underwear were still on. The only things that had been taken off of her were her shoes, which she spotted on the floor a few feet away. Aside from her headache, she didn't feel any pain, either, which was something that reassured her greatly seeing as she'd been hurting for days after Jimmy'd had his way with her. Still, there were other things that could have been done to her while she was unconscious that wouldn't have left a mark. The thought alone unsettled Victoria, so much so that she could feel a panic attack coming on. Taking a minute to control her breathing, she managed to evade it. It was a skill she'd mastered not long after Patrick was born, and one she was proud of.

Unsure of what to do, Victoria decided to slip on her shoes and search for an escape route. She hadn't heard any noises since she'd woken up, so she assumed the house was empty. Opening the bedroom door as quietly as possible just to be safe, she made her way down the hall and took the only flight of stairs she saw. Once she was downstairs she quickly spotted the front door, but just as she was about to make her way across the living to get to it, a voice pulled her back.

"Good morning."

She turned around despite her instincts to make a run for it, only to come face to face with Pascal who was wearing an apron and carrying a breakfast tray in both hands. As much as she hated to admit it, a part of her felt relieved upon seeing him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

The question immediately sent chills down Victoria's spine. Surely, something must have happened to her or he wouldn't be asking her how she was feeling.

"I don't remember anything from last night," she said.

Pascal looked at her pleadingly and motioned for her to take a seat on the couch with the tilt of his head. Judging by the way he was acting, Victoria could sense a story coming. She was afraid to hear what he had to say, but Pascal was the only person who could tell her what had happened the night before and, no matter how horrible the truth was, she needed to hear it.

Taking a seat on the couch himself, Pascal decided to offer Victoria the breakfast he'd made her in an attempt to calm her nerves. Seeing how on edge she was, he'd half expected her to turn it down, but, much to his surprise, she appreciated the gesture and took a bite out of one of the bread slices.

"How far back do you remember?" he started.

Victoria thought back to the very last thing she remembered doing before waking up this morning. She knew a significant chunk of her memory was missing, but she was hoping Pascal would help her recover it by filling in the blanks of last night.

"I remember you asked me if I wanted a drink," she recalled with some difficulty, "so I followed you to the bar and asked for a club soda."

Pascal nodded, "You said you didn't drink, then you started telling me about a vineyard you wanted to see and asked if I wanted to see it with you."

"You said yes..." Victoria had no recollection of asking him to see any vineyards with her, but she did vaguely recall a feeling of excitement over something he'd said and she assumed it was his acceptance of her invitation.

"I did," he confirmed.

Victoria knew Pascal was taking things slowly in order to keep her from freaking out, but she was growing impatient with his hesitation and was anxious to hear the full story, "Please just tell me how I blacked out and ended up here when I wasn't drinking."

Her tone was a bit harsher than usual, but Pascal understood where she was coming from. The more he danced around the subject, the more anxious she became.

"You took someone else's drink thinking it was yours," he said finally. "I left to go to the bathroom, and when I came back you were on the floor. So I asked the bartender to call me a taxi and took you with me because your friends had gone and I didn't know where your dorm was. After I got home, Maman handled the rest. She's the one who took off your shoes and put you to bed."

Victoria averted her gaze as she tried to process everything he had just told her. She was relieved that nothing in Pascal's story seemed to indicate she'd been taken advantage of, but at the same time she had no way of knowing whether or not he was telling her the truth. She wanted to believe he was, but he could also easily be lying to her knowing she wouldn't be able to remember anything to contradict his account of what had happened last night.

"What's wrong?" Pascal asked, sensing a change in her demeanor.

"Why should I believe you?"

Her expression had changed from one of acceptance to one of utter skepticism.

"Victoria-"

"How do I know you're not the one who put something in my drink?"

"Why would I-"

"Because you've been after me from the start! The run-in at the flea market, the cafe, offering to help me with my French, giving me a job I'm not qualified for… none of it was a coincidence, you made it happen!"

Pascal tried to follow her train of thought but came up short, failing to understand where her sudden change of heart had come from. One second she was trusting him enough to help her remember the night before, and the next she was hurling baseless accusations at him for no apparent reason. After everything he'd done to protect her, it infuriated him.

"You're being ridiculous," he snapped.

Unable to stop herself, Victoria struck him across the cheek in a rare show of impulse and unbridled bravado.

"Stay the hell away from me," she said pushing the breakfast tray aside and getting up to leave.

Before she could walk any further, Pascal grabbed a hold of her wrist- unintentionally pulling her backwards harder thank he'd intended. Victoria struggled relentlessly to break free from his grasp, swinging her arms as forcefully as she could and wearing herself out in the process.

"Victoria, stop it!"

"Let me go!"

She continued to fight him, causing her to stumble backwards and fall when he finally released his grip on her. It was a close call, her head barely having missed coming into contact with the edge of the wooden coffee table behind her.

Pascal immediately rushed to her side, feelings of guilt sweeping over him as he hovered over Victoria's body to make sure she was okay.

She was shaking, violently. He had never seen her get so worked up about something, and it pained him to know he had caused her such distress and nearly injured her when she was probably still trying to make sense of what happened the previous night.

Lifting a hand to cup her face reassuringly, Pascal was taken aback when Victoria recoiled from his touch. He didn't understand why she looked back at him with such fear when he had never meant to harm her. On the contrary, all he'd ever done was try to help her, yet here she was looking at him like he was the most terrifying person in the world.

"Victoria, I-"

There were tears in her eyes when she finally managed to whisper, "Please don't hurt me."


	6. Decision

_May 16, 1974_

After trying to get past the initial shock of seeing his friend break down in front of him, Pascal assessed the situation and struggled to find the best course of action he could take. He had always sensed there was something a bit off about Victoria, but he'd made the mistake of attributing her unusual behavior to the fact that she was a foreigner still trying to adapt to her new life abroad. Now, it was clear to him that wasn't the case. His mother had been right- there was much more to Victoria underneath the surface. Judging by the fear in her eyes and the way she'd recoiled from his touch alone, Pascal gathered that, whatever Victoria had been through, it had taken an enormous toll on her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised, attempting to ease her pain. It killed him to see her like this. Pascal couldn't imagine the horrors Victoria must have endured in order to get to this point, but if there was anything he knew it was that he was determined to help her.

Despite their reassuring intention, his words did nothing to assuage Victoria's anxiety. Tears were still spilling from her eyes as her breaths became more and more uneven. Eventually she averted her gaze, unable to face him.

"Victoria," Pascal pleaded, "you're safe. I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

No response.

The two of them remained in their same positions for what felt like an eternity until Victoria's cries finally died down a few minutes later. Pascal waited for her to say something but the silence between remained unbroken. Instead, he reached out a hand for her to take.

"Let me help you."

Victoria tentatively reached for his hand, still refusing to meet his gaze. Pascal pulled her up into a sitting position but refrained from wiping the tears away from her face, worried it would send her into panic mode again if he did.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said after a long pause, "I shouldn't have tried to stop you from walking away."

Victoria shook her head, "I deserved it."

"What?"

"For hitting you," she clarified.

"I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me," Pascal said playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood. He could tell Victoria felt embarrassed over him having seen her in such a vulnerable position, so he tried to diffuse the tension as best he could by not mentioning it.

Victoria wiped her remaining tears before turning to face him, "You must think I'm crazy."

As much as she appreciated Pascal's patience with her, she didn't understand it. She had given him no reason to continue being kind to her, yet here he was, pretending she hadn't just made a complete fool out of herself. No one had ever bothered to take Victoria's feelings into account the way he did, and it scared her because she knew she would only end up disappointing him in the long run.

"I don't think you're crazy, Victoria. I know you're not."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not," Pascal assured her, "I know there are things you haven't told me."

A part of Victoria wanted to tell him everything so he would understand why she kept pushing him away, and why she failed to reciprocate his affections. It would be so much easier for her to come to terms with her past if she had someone she could discuss it with comfortably. More than anything, though, she wanted to be able to acknowledge Patrick. Having to keep him a secret made her feel like she was denying his existence, which brought her a great deal of guilt and often kept her from sleeping at night.

At the same time, Victoria knew she could never tell Pascal the truth about what she'd been through. She couldn't handle him looking at her with disgust instead of adoration, and she knew that, once he learned she'd been made a victim of repeatedly, that was all her would ever see her as.

"Do you want to talk about them?" he pressed.

Victoria could feel a knot beginning to form in her stomach. No matter how patient he was with her, or how tempted she was to confess everything to him, she knew she had to remain strong.

"I can't."

"You can," Pascal encouraged, "keeping it inside will only destroy you in the end."

"It's a little late for that," Victoria said bitterly.

The abuse she'd suffered at the hands of her mother, stepfather, and Jimmy Brennan had already broken her spirit and shattered any hopes she had of ever finding true happiness. She would always carry around the shame of having been taken advantage of by so many people, and nothing Pascal said could ever change that.

"Victoria, please."

"No," she said defiantly, "You would never look at me the same way again."

"Try me," he dared, "give me a chance to prove you wrong."

Victoria found his persistent nature both endearing and irritating, depending on the circumstance. They had known each other for nearly a month now and, still, she had yet to discover what is was Pascal had seen in her at the flea market the day they met. The way he continued giving the benefit of the doubt, even now, baffled her. God knows she certainly hadn't afforded him the same courtesy in return.

"Why?" she asked him, genuinely curious, "Why should I give you a chance to do anything for me?"

"Because," Pascal said seriously, "you can trust me."

Victoria knew his words were genuine. She knew that he had never lied to her, and that he'd given her every reason under the sun to trust him. In the short time they'd know each other, Pascal had been provided with so many opportunities to debase her the way so many others had done before him, yet, for some unknown reason, he had chosen to preserve her dignity instead.

Initially unsure of how to respond, Victoria decided to mentally outweigh the pros and cons of confessing the entire truth to him and, after some deliberation, ultimately came to a decision.


	7. Regret

_May 16, 1974_

"Please take me home."

"Victoria-"

"Please," she insisted.

She'd been on the brink of confessing the entire truth to Pascal until her protective instincts kicked in and reminded her of her own mother's reaction to the things Maxwell had done to her. She could vividly recall the revulsion on Marion's face the day she confronted her about the abuse. Victoria had just been returned to her custody after six months of being evaluated in a psychiatric hospital and the only thing Marion had said to her in response was that she shouldn't be making trouble so soon after returning home. She then proceeded to hand Victoria a list of errands to run and went on about her day as if nothing had happened. At the time, Victoria had chalked up her mother's dismissal of her claims to genuine ignorance, but not long afterward she learned her mother had known all along about Maxwell's visits to her room at night and quietly stood by as he had his way with her. She never brought it up again.

Deep down, she knew Pascal was different. He had been nothing but kind to her since they met that day at the flea market, and he was continually respecting her boundaries and giving her space without being distant. She had never met anyone so selflessly patient. After all, she had nothing to offer him. He had given her a job and helped her with her French and for what? All she'd given him in return was a slap across the face and probably a headache.

Victoria couldn't imagine what was compelling him to put up with her inexplicable outbursts and tendency to run away when things became difficult, but she was grateful to Pascal nevertheless. Even now he was complying to her wishes- walking her to her dorm because she wouldn't be able to find her way otherwise. Neither of them knew what to say to break the tension, so they both walked in silence until they finally reached the academy.

"Well, you know the rest of the way," Pascal stopped once they were standing in front of her building.

Victoria nodded. It was all she could bring herself to do. She felt embarrassed over having caused Pascal so much trouble the previous night, and guilty for having rejected him earlier despite everything he had done to show her she could trust him.

"Thank you," she managed, when she noticed him waiting for her to say something.

She knew it wasn't enough. Pascal hadn't just gone out of his way to walk her to her dorm safely, he had prevented her from being taken advantage of by the older guys at the bar, spent money on a cab to take her home, involved his mother, made her breakfast when she woke up, and refrained from poking fun at her when she had a panic attack after their argument. He deserved better than her, and Victoria couldn't understand why he didn't seem to see it.

Pascal shoved his fists into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged, "No problem."

The casual way in which he trivialized everything he had just done for her was appalling. Victoria wasn't sure whether she found this attitude endearing or infuriating. Perhaps it was both.

"I'll see you on Monday," she said before parting.

Pascal forced a smile, "Take care, Victoria."

* * *

The minute Victoria stepped into her dorm, she was immediately caught off guard and pulled into an embrace by her roommate. The girl had nearly knocked her off her feet, but somehow Victoria managed to steady herself and keep her balance.

"Mon Dieu, Vicky! Where have you been? I was so worried about you," Bernadette questioned. Her French accent was thick but easy enough to understand.

"I'm fine," Victoria assured her before pulling away.

"Why didn't you come home last night?"

Victoria knew she meant well, but Bernadette's frantic questions were doing nothing to help her headache. She had been feeling lousy all morning and the walk from Pascal's house had exhausted what little energy she'd woken up with.

"I had too much to drink," she lied.

This seemed to pique Bernadette's interest. She sat across from Victoria on her own bed and decided to prod for details.

"Je ne savais pas que vous étiez un tel party girl."

Victoria had to make a conscious effort not to roll her eyes at her roommate's ignorance. She didn't dislike the girl, but right now she was getting on her nerves.

"I'm not," she corrected, "it was a mistake."

Her irritation seemed completely lost on Bernadette, who continued her prodding.

"So where did you go?" she asked.

Victoria braced herself for the multiple questions that would ensue as a result of her answer, "I went home with a friend."

"A boy?"

"Mhm."

"What's his name?"

"Pascal," Victoria said tiredly.

Her head was still pounding from whatever it was she drank the previous night and all she wanted to do was go back to sleep.

Bernadette's mouth dropped, "Pascal LeMarchal?"

"Yes," Victoria answered hesitantly, "How did you know?"

"Il a toute une réputation avec les femmes. I have many friends who have…how do you say it? Dated him?"

Her response took Victoria by surprise. Not once since they'd met had Pascal ever struck her as the playboy type.

"I met him at the flea market almost a month ago," she explained, "he seems nice."

Bernadette smiled mischievously, "He is very charming but he'll break your heart."

"Is that what he did to your friends?" Victoria asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"No, they were just having fun."

The confused expression on Victoria's face indicated she'd failed to understand what she meant.

"Oh Vicky, vous êtes si innocent," the girl laughed.

It was at that moment Victoria realized what her roommate had meant. She resented the condescension but decided to ignore her pride in order to gather more information on Pascal.

"Do you think he'll try something with me? We're just friends."

Bernadette shook her head, "You're not his type."

"What exactly does that mean?" Victoria wasn't sure whether she should feel relieved or offended.

"Rien," the girl shrugged, "just that you seem very wholesome, and Pascal likes a girl who can show him a good time."

"You hardly know me," Victoria scoffed. Even if what Bernadette was saying was true, she didn't appreciate being talked down to.

"Il est simplement une observation."

"Maybe I should stop talking to him," Victoria mused.

"Pourquoi?"

"Because I don't want him to think I'm leading him on."

Bernadette shook her head, "You have nothing to worry about. Pascal knows when a girl is interested in him and when she's not. He's a good friend, even if he is a reckless lover."

Victoria carefully considered her roommate's words before responding, "He took me home last night because someone at the bar put something in my drink. I wasn't drunk like I said earlier. I blacked out and he told me everything the next morning."

A hint of a smile formed on Bernadette's lips. "That's just like him," she said sincerely.

"How so?"

"Pascal may be a player but he respects women. When a friend of mine's ex-boyfriend kept following her around last summer, Pascal told him to get lost. Said he'd break his nose if he didn't leave her alone. The guy never bothered her again."

Victoria sighed, burying her face into her hands. The reassurance she felt upon hearing her roommate attest to Pascal's good character was immediately followed by regret over not having been able to come clean to him earlier. She'd wanted to be honest with him, she really had, but for the first time in her life her self-preservation instincts had won out over her trusting nature. Now that she knew she hadn't been wrong about the kind of person he was, Victoria was determined to make it up to him. She knew she owed Pascal an apology- not for refusing to tell him about her past, but for repeatedly pushing him away and taking his compassion for granted. It didn't seem fair to her that he was frequently taking the time out to help her and getting nothing in return, so she came up with a plan.

Well, maybe 'plan' wasn't the word for it. It was more of an idea. Either way, she was going to let Pascal know that the kindness he'd showed over the past few weeks had not gone unnoticed or unappreciated- and, more importantly, she was going to tell him truth.


	8. Connection

_May 17, 1974_

It was exactly twelve in the afternoon when Victoria rang Pascal's doorbell. She had memorized the path to his house when when he walked her to her dorm the day earlier and was hoping to catch him in a free moment before he went out to lunch. She had something to give him- and plenty to say. Initially, she'd intended to wait until they saw each other at the flea market on Monday, but the idea of having to tell him about her past in a public place filled with hundreds of people did not appeal to Victoria. So, here she was, gracing his doorstep.

Not long after she rang the doorbell, she heard footsteps approaching the door. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and taking a deep breath, she mentally prepared herself to face Pascal. Instead, however, she was greeted by a woman in her late 30's with warm blue eyes and short, dark hair.

"Bon après-midi, madame. Je suis ici pour voir Pascal. Est-il à la maison?"

Victoria prayed her French was satisfactory. She had never laid eyes on this woman before, but one look at her alone indicated she was Pascal's mother. They resembled each other a great deal, especially when they smiled.

"He went to the bakery to pick up some things, but he won't be long. You're free to come in and wait for him if you'd like."

Victoria instantly noted how warm and welcoming the woman's tone was. She couldn't ever recall having been addressed the same way by her own mother.

"Thank you," she nodded, before stepping inside.

The older woman smiled, closing the door behind her, "Je suis la mère de Pascal, Claudine."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. LeMarchal. I'm Victoria Harper."

She'd intended to respond in French, but forgot to because she was so anxious. Adults always made her nervous, and it was important to Victoria that she make a good impression.

"I remember," Claudine admitted as she led Victoria further into the house, "How are you feeling?"

Victoria recalled Pascal mentioning how his mother had been the one to take off her shoes and put her to bed the night she passed out at the bar.

"I'm alright," she answered, "Pascal mentioned you helped me the other night; I don't know how to thank you."

"Ne vous inquiétez pas, ma fille. What happened was not okay."

Once they reached the living room, Claudine took a seat on one of the chairs and motioned for Victoria to do the same. Opting for the couch and setting her bag down next to her, Victoria made herself comfortable.

"I know," she acknowledged, "it was stupid of me to take the wrong drink."

Claudine shook her head, "That's not what I meant. Try not to blame yourself, ma chérie, but do be more careful next time."

"I will," Victoria promised, "Pascal was an utter gentleman, but anyone else might have left me there or taken full advantage of the situation."

"Pascal's father and I had him young- barely out of college, but it was important to both of us he grow up with a strong sense of compassion and respect for others," Claudine explained.

At her words, Victoria's thoughts immediately flew to Patrick. She had often wondered about the kind of man he would turn out to be when he was still under her care, and hoped she wouldn't fail him somehow as he got older. Her age and inexperience with children had always been her two greatest insecurities as a parent, and it didn't help that the only examples she ever had to go on were the ones Marion and her lecherous lovers had provided.

"I'd like to think I would raise my son the same way."

The conversation had taken her mind to six months ago, bringing back some of the best memories she ever shared with Patrick. The first time she held him in her arms at the hospital, the sound of his laugh whenever she did something silly, all of the times he fell asleep grabbing onto her hair as she carried him... It wasn't until after she noted a subtle shift in Claudine's demeanor that Victoria realized her slip.

"If I ever have a son, that is," she added in an attempt to diffuse suspicion.

Unfortunately it was too late. Claudine had already seen through Victoria's words and put the pieces together in her head, leaving Victoria exposed and unable to escape the truth.

"You were very young, weren't you?" she asked solemnly.

There was no use denying it. A mother always knew.

"Sixteen," Victoria managed to choke out.

She knew she had just blown the whole "making a good impression" thing. Claudine would never approve of her now, not after hearing what she just did. Victoria couldn't help but wonder how her own mother would have taken the news if she'd told her. Although, truthfully, it didn't require much imagination to determine how Marion would have reacted. She would have blamed Victoria and called her a whore for good measure, as usual. The woman was many things, but unpredictable was not one of them.

"Ma fille, I am so sorry," Claudine stood up from where she was sitting and planted herself next to Victoria on the couch in a show of support. "You're sixteen now, is that right?"

Unable to face her, all Victoria could bring herself to do was nod.

"You must miss him a great deal," Claudine mused, "What is his name?"

Victoria wiped a fallen tear from her cheek before answering, "Patrick."

"Ah, like the saint. A beautiful name for a boy," Claudine's heart broke for Victoria. It was clear the girl was lonely with no one to talk to, and whatever circumstances had led her to having a child and leaving to Paris could not have been pretty ones.

"It was my grandfather's name," Victoria explained, "he passed away when I was little but I still remember him. My mother used to drop me off at his house sometimes when she was busy."

"Oh, so it's special," Claudine smiled, trying to lift the girl's spirits.

Victoria nodded, finally gathering up the courage to meet her eyes. She hadn't expected Claudine to show her such kindness after learning about Patrick, but the woman had taken her by surprise and Victoria was grateful to her for not having judged her or called her names.

"Can I ask you something?" she said after some consideration.

"You can ask me anything at all, ma chérie."

"Do you think he'll hate me for giving him away? I wanted to keep him more than anything, but I couldn't. He wasn't safe."

Claudine placed a hand on Victoria's back in order to reassure her, "You mustn't worry about what he'll think of you, my darling. You did the best you could. It's a mother's job to protect her child, always, no matter what the cost. Perhaps someday the two of you will be reunited; then you can tell him everything."

Victoria shook her head, "I'll never see him again."

"Don't be so sure," Claudine warned, "fate works in mysterious ways."

"I just wish he knew how much I loved him."

It was something that constantly haunted Victoria- the idea of Patrick growing up with the belief his mother never loved him. As someone who knew what it felt like to live with that pain, she prayed her son never experienced it. There was nothing worse than the rejection of a parent.

Claudine reassuringly took Victoria's hand into hers, "You're a good mother, Victoria. Whether you feel that way or not, Patrick was lucky to have you looking out for him."

At that, Victoria couldn't help but smile. She had never felt secure in her decision to leave Patrick because she had never been able to discuss it with anyone, but now that Claudine had expressed her approval, she was certain she'd made the right choice. Painful as it had been to give Patrick to Sister Rebecca, it was the only way she could protect them both. And if the duty of a mother was to protect her child, then Victoria had done just that.

"Thank you," she said, "for everything."

Claudine happily returned the smile, "Tout moment, ma chère."

The brief silence that befell them was immediately broken by the sound of a lock turning, following footsteps.

"Maman? Je suis de retour de la boulangerie."

It was Pascal. He was back from the bakery.


	9. Trust

_May 17, 1974_

After greeting his mother and setting down the bags of bread and pastries in the kitchen, Pascal led Victoria upstairs where they could talk privately without any interruptions or distractions. On any other day, Claudine wouldn't have allowed her son to take a girl up to his room unsupervised, but she knew all he and Victoria intended to do was talk so she decided to make an exception just this once.

Ever the gentleman, Pascal left the door half-open so as not to make Victoria feel uncomfortable. The gesture did not go unnoticed, and Victoria silently thanked him for having thought of her in her mind.

His room was simple, and rather small. Other than a bed, a desk, a night table, some drawers, and a bookshelf, there wasn't much. Victoria was surprised to see how tidy he kept everything. She was certain her own room back home hadn't been half as organized. The only mess she was able to spot was a pile of newspapers on the floor by the bookshelf.

Following her gaze, Pascal smiled somewhat embarrassedly.

"I don't have anywhere else to put them," he explained.

"You collect them?"

Pascal nodded, "I've always been interested in print media."

"Does that interest expand to fashion magazines?" Victoria teased, "Because if I remember correctly, you made fun of me for reading one at that cafe the second time we met."

Pascal let out a laugh, "I wasn't making fun of you, I promise."

Victoria envied the way he was able to convey sincerity so easily. No matter how hard she tried to come off as friendly and approachable, she feared her hesitation to trust and initial caution made her appear disinterested and standoffish. It was something she intended to work on before classes started.

"I have something for you," she said remembering why she had come to visit Pascal in the first place. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a small, square-shaped piece of paper and handed it over to him.

As soon as Pascal saw what it was, he smiled. "The blonde dragon?"

"It was the first thing that came to mind," Victoria admitted, "I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me but I didn't think words would be enough, so I decided to draw something. I know it isn't much..."

"It's beautiful," Pascal assured her, "you're very talented."

Victoria could feel her cheeks beginning to flush at his words. Even though they'd only known each other for about a month, his approval meant a lot to her.

"I also came here to apologize for yesterday. I wanted to tell you everything, but I was afraid you'd think less of me."

As tempted as she was to continue putting off the conversation, Victoria felt it was time to come forward with the truth. Pascal had more than proven himself worthy of her trust these past few days, and she knew their relationship would never progress if she continued to keep secrets from him.

"You can tell me," he encouraged.

Victoria bit her lip, unsure of where to start.

"Do you remember when I ran into you the day we met?" she asked.

Pascal nodded, thinking back to their first encounter at the flea market, "You were crying."

"Right," Victoria gave a stiff nod. "It was because I'd seen this booth that was selling baby clothes and it reminded me… it reminded me of my son, Patrick."

Pascal's expression altered slightly, but if he was judging her for being a mother at sixteen, he certainly wasn't showing it.

"Did he pass away?"

Victoria shook her head, "No, it's not that. I had to give him up for adoption before I came here."

"I'm so sorry," Pascal frowned, "how old was he when you last saw him?"

"Six months. He won't even remember me when he's older, but I guess it's for the best."

Pascal tried to process everything she'd just told him, but there were still too many blanks for a clear picture.

"What about Patrick's father?" he asked. "Did he help you?"

Victoria averted her gaze, "He's the reason I couldn't keep Patrick."

Pascal furrowed his brow, "I don't understand…was he your boyfriend?"

"No, he lived down the hall from me. I was living alone at the time and we became friends, so I thought I could trust him. Then one day a fuse blew out in my apartment, so I followed him down to the basement to help him fix it and he…" Victoria paused to collect herself, "he started kissing me, so I said 'no, we're just friends', but when I tried to pull away he had this look on this face."

Pascal was beginning to sense where the story was headed, but he knew Victoria had been bottling up her pain for far too long so he allowed her to continue without interruption.

"He punched me, and as soon as I fell I raised my arms to cover my face because I felt so ashamed of myself I couldn't look at him. And then he pushed my face against the cold concrete and whispered 'relax honey'…over and over and over. I wanted to fight him off, but he was bigger than me and I knew I would lose. So I stared at the pilot light underneath the water heater and waited for him to be done."

It was the first time Victoria told anyone what Jimmy had done to her, and, despite how difficult it had been to relive the memory, she was proud of herself for being able to get through it in one piece. Perhaps she was stronger than she'd ever been given credit for.

"Victoria, I'm so sorry," Pascal lamented. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No, I'm glad you did," Victoria admitted, "I know it sounds strange, but it helps to talk about it. I've kept a lot to myself these past few years and it's been really lonely."

"You've never told anyone else?"

Victoria shook her head, "I didn't have anyone to talk to after it happened. I moved out of my apartment as soon as I could, and when Patrick was born it was just me and him. Believe it or not, we were actually happy for a time."

"What happened?" Pascal's tone was curious but patient.

"Jimmy- that was his name- he started stalking me so we, uh...we ran from apartment to apartment until there was nowhere else to go."

"Were you able to keep Patrick safe from him?"

Victoria nodded, "I gave him to a woman named Sister Rebecca and warned her Jimmy might come for him. She promised me she'd keep Patrick away from him at any cost, and try to find him a good family."

"I'm glad you're both safe," Pascal said sincerely. "Paris will be good to you."

"I still can't believe I got the scholarship to study here," Victoria mused, "I don't know where I would've gone if they'd turned me down."

"You would have figured something out," Pascal assured her, "you're tougher than most."

"If that were true people wouldn't have such an easy time making a victim out of me."

It pained Pascal to realize Victoria viewed herself in such an unfavorable light. She had already been through so much and yet, here she was, ready to attend a prestigious art school in Paris after having successfully managed to save herself and her son from a violent man. Her resilience was awe-inspiring.

"What happened wasn't your fault, Victoria. Don't let the inexcusable actions of one man define you," Pascal's tone was firm but gentle.

"He wasn't the only one," Victoria's voice was barely above a whisper, but Pascal managed to catch her words nevertheless.

"Who else?" he asked quietly.

Tears were beginning to form in Victoria's eyes as she spoke, "I can't."

"You can," Pascal encouraged, "you've done great so far."

He'd made so much progress getting her to open up to him today that it killed him to see Victoria lapse back into her guarded state again. He knew how difficult it was for her to talk about these things, and he didn't want to push her, but at the same time he knew she would only ended up regretting it if she continued to hide parts of herself from him.

"My mother's boyfriend, Maxwell," Victoria answered once she was able to gather herself. "He didn't force himself on me, but he did other things that left me feeling just as dirty."

"Is that why you left home?"

A tear made its way down Victoria's cheek, "I didn't choose to leave, my mother threw me out."

Pascal's confusion was apparent in his voice, "Why?"

"She said I seduced him."

By now Victoria's shoulders were shaking and she was having a difficult time controlling her breathing, "If I did it was an accident; I never wanted him to come into my room at night."

Pascal had never felt so disgusted in his life. He didn't understand how a mother could allow her child to be taken advantage of so profoundly, and it infuriated him to know that this woman's actions had paved the way for Victoria to be violated yet again by some other man.

"I believe you," he said, "You didn't do anything wrong, Victoria. For your mother to blame you like that is just sick."

"I tried so hard to make her love me."

Pascal let out a sigh, "You shouldn't have had to try at all."

"I took the blame for her, you know. When she killed one of her lovers on Thanksgiving."

"You what?"

"She asked me tell the police I shot him to protect her and I did," Victoria recalled.

The more she divulged about her past, the worse Pascal felt.

"And they believed you?"

Victoria nodded, "I spent six months in a psychiatric hospital as a result."

"I'm so sorry, Victoria."

Were it not for her issues with boundaries, Pascal would have pulled her in for an embrace right then and there. As it was, however, he maintained his distance.

"That's it, I've told you everything," Victoria said as she wiped what was left of her tears away from her face. It was clear from her voice she was relieved at having finished confessing.

"I should hope that's it," Pascal returned, "thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for being so understanding."

Pascal gave her a warm smile, "You see? I knew you could do it."

"Hmm," Victoria couldn't help but return his smile. He was always so good to her.

"Promise me you'll never let those circumstances define you. There is so much more to you than what you've endured."

"I promise."

"Good," Pascal nodded, satisfied.

He was just about to get up from where he was sitting on the bed when he suddenly found himself pulled into a tight embrace. His cheeks turned red as he smiled to himself, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm.

"You did well, Victoria."


End file.
